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7:24 a.m. - September 07, 2004
Tuesday morning, nothing special
This is the sixth morning I've watched the sun rise from my bed, curled up with a pillow to watch the shadows. I would like to know more names for the shades of blue and dark. I think I'm banking up these sunrises for the many days I'll be up and leaving for work before the sun peeks over the hills. My morning routine of unbuttered toast and half-glass of orange juice or bowl of Basic 4 with soy milk (unsweetened) and turning on the porch light to find the newspaper will kick in soon enough. For now it is a luxury to watch the sunrise, some me-time that must be like the requisite first cup of coffee for some.

I dreamed of Seattle last night, of the day when Tasha's mother had come to visit from Florida and we took her to the market to watch the fish tossing and have scones. I had stepped away for a bit to get some jam and stood out on the back staircase looking at the Olympic Mountains across the sound on a crisp, cold blue day. I stood there long enough for Tasha and her mom to come looking and all three of us stood in the cold looking over the water. In the dream I recalled how cold it was on my face, how my skin tightened and tingled, and how it was glorious. The little pieces of glory are lacking in my life right now unless I expand gloriousness to include grinding traffic and the squeal of brakes.

I'm in a holding pattern flying in circles, eyes fixed on some unknown point that when I land will surely look just like the place I left. This distresses me only because I feel I should be somewhere different, have changed, grown up more.


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